


Nera's sick of your shit, Wolfie.

by kabrox18



Series: Idiots in Space [5]
Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 05:04:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11350455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kabrox18/pseuds/kabrox18
Summary: Gorgon's gaze is not to be trifled with.





	Nera's sick of your shit, Wolfie.

**Author's Note:**

> I'M NOT DEAD WOAH

Nera has him by his ankles, lifting him upside-down. He coughs a little, smoke rolling off his shoulders.

“You left again, Wolfie,” she says, uncannily calm. He grunts a little in confirmation, and she moves him higher, the haze around her hand getting thicker. Now he’s almost eye-level with her--or more accurately, her helmet--and she leans closer. She’s got that old helmet on again, but somehow, it’s different. Newer, maybe.

It was Vex tech anyway, so what did the age really matter?

“And?” He finally says, quickly getting tired of this boring staring contest.

“And, I’m going to give you what you want.” He freezes, looks to her; he’d been letting his gaze drift off to the side, but that phrase startled him. The black of her helmet had a strange tinge to it, and there was the faintest outline of a lone eye in the center.

“So, what’s that mean?”

“I’m taking you to the Vault and throwing you in front of a Gorgon.” He takes a second to process this; “So, you’re forcing me to no longer exist.”

“It’s what you always ask for, yes? So, I’m giving it to you.” He laughs, and laughs, and  _ laughs, _ until he realizes she isn’t laughing with him. He suddenly trails off uncomfortably, and clears his throat. They’re moving though--he sees the rocks nearby getting more distant. 

“Nera, you’re seriously going to permanently kill me?”

“Yes.” She says it without looking at him. He can’t tell if it’s the sort of looking-away stemming from uncomfortable regret, or the sort stemming from a chilling lack of empathy.

Lately, the latter option seems more in-character.

“You can’t do that,” he blurts out. Finally, she looks do him again. 

“I just told you how I’m going to do it. You know it works, you’ve seen the effects of a Gorgon's gaze.” He casts a not-so-subtle look toward her Vex legs; they move just as a Guardian’s natural limbs would--a few Ghost rezzes fixed the nervous system discrepancies well enough that the joint pain and fatigue had left her alone.

“So. You’re actually gunna kill me. Huh,” is all he offers. She doesn’t reply to him, instead walking steadily up the stairway to the Vault’s entryway. Vex are there, mostly just in an idle mode. They perk up, shoulders jerking as they lift their heads, one wailing an alarm note. Nera continues walking, right up to the brassy doorway; the Vex _ hesitate, _ seeming puzzled. They burble and chitter in their own strange machine language. It sounds like elaborate dial-up noises to Wolfie, but he chooses not to comment, instead watching the way Nera takes one measured step forward, raising her hand a certain way, fingers splayed out. 

One unit suddenly repeats the action, taking that startled sort of pose they do when they first spot a Guardian. The others are suddenly all in rows, a hobgoblin on the ends of each row of goblins. The one that had mimicked Nera gives a strange sort of warbling, and goes into idle mode again, leaving the area. The ground rumbles as the others all stand tall and straight--even the hobgoblins. Wolfie awkwardly twists up on himself, wheezing black smoke as he stares up at the Vault door, and the way it  _ clunks _ into position, sliding open.

Nera relaxes, keeping her power’s grip on his ankles as she steps in, nearly hitting his head on the high rim of the door. He mutters an expletive haflheartedly, more concerned that: A, she’d just opened the Vault seemingly by saying hello to a Vex, and B, she was actually being serious about wiping him from reality.

“You’ll miss me,” he jokes, more to himself and his Ghost.

“The Gorgons’ ontological power is absolute. I won’t even remember you,” Nera says, carrying him down into the Templar’s Well. He swallows, a little shakily, and tries to trip her. His arms  _ are _ right there, and a fall here into the cloudy abyss below won’t permanently kill them. He succeeds, but they meet stone instead of air. He gets to his feet quickly, now that they’re freed, and tries to scramble away. He gags audibly, spitting more black smoke when she grabs a hold of his cloak, dragging him back by the throat. 

“You  _ wanted  _ this!” She hissed, in a sudden show of emotion. So she was still herself--good. Nera could be reasoned with--bargained with. A Vex  _ couldn’t. _ Inwardly, he wondered when the line between the two had been blurred so much.

“Is it illegal for me to change my mind?” He snaps back, having stomped rather cruelly on the arm holding his cloak. She’s gripping it, but it’s limp, and black fluid leaks from the cracks in the gauntlet.

“ _ Now?! _ ” She demands, sitting up. “A year and a half, and  _ now _ you change your mind?!” He takes a step back, and she gets awkwardly to her feet, arm hanging by her side. Her good hand is coated in a sheen of inky black, and he stares at the way fat drops pool and wobble on the fingertips and knuckles of her other hand.

“Nera, I-”

“No! I'm trying to help you and you suddenly don't want it. Why? Give me an answer.” She grabs him with her good hand, curling her slim fingers up into the scarf-like part of his cloak, dragging him in close.

“Because of you. You’re helping me forget. Between you, and Sci, and Tee, things aren't looking quite so… Horrible. You know?” He moves his hands up, gently holding her armored wrist. She stares him down a long time, silent. He racks his brain for an excuse, or another reason--something to keep her from doing this.

“You don’t care, though, do you?” She’s so quiet, it takes a moment for the words to register.

“Uh, care about what, exactly?”   
“Anything. You hit that depressive spiral and you just… you don’t care. I see it in the way you act. You commit suicide on the regular, and you’ve even laughed when Tee threatened to off you and your Ghost.” She looks up at him, Bit coming up to her shoulder. He watches Wolfie almost  _ sadly, _ and flits down to set up repairs on the Warlock’s arm. The Hunter looks aside, giving a weird, rasping sort of noise that means he doesn’t want to talk. She drops him, shaking her head slightly.

“Fine, Wolfie. If you don’t care, then neither do I. Goodbye.” She looked to Bit, who nodded his eye, casting a sidelong glance to Wolfie before bringing Nera to orbit, abandoning Wolfie on the steps to the Templar’s Well.


End file.
